


Country Thanksgiving

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Farmer!Tim, M/M, Rhys stays at Tim's farmhouse for a vacation and falls in love with him, and now theyre having Thanksgiving, city boy Rhys, country boy au, just fluffy fluff, trans!Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: “Aw, gee, Rhysie…” Tim shyly put his hands on Rhys’ waist, rubbing his sides through the fabric of his sweater. Rhys felt something beautiful and warm bloom up in his chest, and couldn’t resist pressing another tender kiss to Tim’s lips before letting him go, moving over to the massive stock pot full of simmering whine, pieces of apple and cinnamon sticks. He inhaled deeply over the pot and let out a happy shudder.
“Making your own mulled wine…I should have expected you’d go all out for Thanksgiving, huh?” Rhys turned his head to see Tim smiling bashfully.
----
Sweet seasonal fluff from the country farmer Tim AU!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little seasonal fun from an AU I've been exploring on Tumblr, with farmer Tim and Rhys, a corporate worker from the city who decides to take a vacation in a cute little farmhouse....and ends up falling in love with him. So here's just some cute holiday fluff! There should be a second chapter too!

Having survived the fanfare of Halloween—and honestly, almost every day at Timothy’s house was some kind of quaint culinary adventure—Rhys was eagerly anticipating some kind of massive operation for Thanksgiving, and he wasn’t disappointed. In fact, Rhys dared to say that even his wildest fantasies had been exceeded by just how _seriously_ Tim seemed to take the holiday.

Thanksgiving when Rhys was growing up had always been more of an awkward afterthought of an affair rather than something planned with love and care and excess. His mom would buy a turkey or maybe a honey-baked ham the day before, couple it with a handful of trimmings, and end the whole thing with a decent enough pie from the grocery store. Whatever relatives had been interested in coming would kiss him on the cheek, and he’d watch the tail end of a couple of Turkey Day marathons on television, and then go to sleep.

So while Rhys had definitely expected Tim to go far beyond that in his plans for the dinner, he was still taken slightly aback when, a week before Thanksgiving, he woke to the smell of sweet simmering apples and mulling spices. Rhys had gone down to the kitchen only to find Tim stirring what had to be a couple bottles of wine in a massive crockpot.

“We gonna get wasted on Thanksgiving?” Rhys chuckled from the doorframe, causing Tim to turn away from the crockpot with a blushing smile.

“Hey, we don’t have to drink it _all_ , I’m going to seal it up in some new bottles today so we can enjoy it the whole holiday season…” Tim softly walked over to Rhys, his slippers padding against the kitchen tile. Tim was wearing his favorite dark blue flannel robe, undone to show off his broad chest and kitten-patterned boxers. Rhys wrapped his arms around Tim’s shoulders, peppering his face with gentle good morning kisses before pulling back with a smile. And oh, Rhys just knew that the warm grin that Tim returned would be enough to melt the slight snow that had fallen on the grass outside.

“Good, because if there’s a blizzard I want nothing more than to hole up in the living room with a warm glass of wine and my favorite farmer.” Rhys nuzzled his nose against Tim, hands playing with the man’s soft bedhead. He couldn’t get enough of how cute his boyfriend looked when his cheeks colored at compliments, making the dusting of freckles over his skin stand out even more than usual.

“Aw, gee, Rhysie…” Tim shyly put his hands on Rhys’ waist, rubbing his sides through the fabric of his sweater. Rhys felt something beautiful and warm bloom up in his chest, and couldn’t resist pressing another tender kiss to Tim’s lips before letting him go, moving over to the massive stock pot full of simmering whine, pieces of apple and cinnamon sticks. He inhaled deeply over the pot and let out a happy shudder.

“Making your own mulled wine…I should have expected you’d go all out for Thanksgiving, huh?” Rhys turned his head to see Tim smiling bashfully.

“Well…its just nice to cook a big meal and have everyone over…Jack’s coming! And Nisha and Wil usually swing by too, sometimes a couple of others…” Rhys nodded.

“Oh yeah, Jack mentioned in his last e-mail that he might be coming by….hope he doesn’t try to scare me again.” Rhys grumbled, remembering when Jack had jumped out at him during the Halloween corn maze, but a little smile still clung to his lips. His boss might be kind of a dick at times, but his heart was in the right place, and Rhys was glad to have him over for Thanksgiving. Sometimes, it was nice to have the farmhouse brimming with more life than two people and a couple of cats.

“I hope you’re ready for me to work you a little harder over the next few days….lots of linens to wash, silverware to clean, fresh herbs to pick…I’ll do most of the heavier lifting but I’m gonna have you do some little chores.” Tim purred and placed a hot mug of coffee, made to perfection just way Rhys liked it, into his hands. Rhys smiled, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a grateful sip.

“I don’t mind helping out, Tim, you already do so much for this whole place. And for me.” Rhys walked over to the breakfast table, eyeing a new plate of freshly baked scones sitting in the center.

* * *

Rhys was sure to help out as much as he could the next few weeks, laundering Tim’s napkins and white and cornflower blue tablecloths, handwriting little place cards and picking pumpkins from the patch and herbs from the garden out back. He’d even scoured the attic with Tim to find a big box of china plates, silverware, and crystal glasses needing to be cleaned from a year’s-worth of dust.

Tim received the turkey, locally slaughtered, the day before, cleaning and brining it and putting it in the fridge to keep cool until it would be put into the oven the next morning. Rhys had wisely stayed out of the kitchen as Tim had prepared the bird, the sight of a freshly killed animal making him a little bit woozy. But soon that was over, and Tim invited him back in to premix the filling and pre-make the crusts for tomorrow’s veritable armada of pies. Rhys had been stunned when Tim had handed him a little post it note covered in oily thumbprints, listing all the types of pie that he was planning to bake for the following day.

“Three pumpkin pies, Tim? Two apple pies, one mixed berry, one lemon meringue…I hope you didn’t tell anyone else to bring anything, or else we’ll be eating pie until New Year’s…” Rhys shook his head in amused disbelief. The fridge was already full of vegetables chopped for side dishes or stuffing and dough for dinner rolls, while parboiled potatoes bubbled and bobbed in a big pot on the stove. Two big baking pans full of sweet potatoes sat on the space remaining on the stovetop as the oven heated up. Timothy’s apron was already covered in flour handprints as he rolled out the dough for the piecrust, while Rhys coated what was probably a pound of apple in a mix of cinnamon, sugar and cloves.

“Well, Wilhelm can probably eat two pies all on his own….if you give Jack enough wine he won’t stop eating until his stomach begs him to stop…Nisha usually gives leftovers to everyone at the sheriff’s office.” Rhys smirked, sneaking a little bit of sweet apple before stirring the next batch of pumpkin filling.

“Fair enough….so, which pie is your favorite?” Rhys asked off-handedly, just making some small talk as they worked their way through everything on Tim’s pre-Thanksgiving schedule. Since he wasn’t looking, he missed the little sly smile spreading over Tim’s face as he quipped.

“Well, actually, I think my favorite type of pie is yo—“ Rhys looked up just for Tim to stammer and cut himself off, his face suddenly bright red as he looked away, rolling out the pie crust with a new intensity. Rhys paused in stirring the filling, his eyebrow raising and a teasing smile spreading over his lips as it dawned on him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Tim set the rolling pin aside, anxiously patting the flour onto his apron as he turned away from Rhys. His voice was a little high, which only made Rhys’ grin widen as he abandoned the filling station and pattered up behind Tim as the man tried to busy himself in cutting up the cornbread for the stuffing.

“Tim, did you just—“

“ _Nooo_ , Rhys—“ Tim turned and lifted his hands up, covering his face, “don’t, it’s _dirty_ —“

Rhys’ let out an amused chuckle, his hands coming up to lightly tug on Tim’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. Tim looked positively embarrassed, cheeks earnestly glowing with blush, and Rhys found it the most adorable thing.

“Tim…were you going to say that your favorite kind of pie is _mine_?” Rhys giggled as Tim’s blush grew impossibly redder, cheeks hot.

“I’m sorry! It’s so dirty, I shouldn’t have—“ Rhys quieted his stammering boyfriend with a soft kiss, both hands coming up to g the sides of Tim’s head as Rhys deepened it, pressing more firmly up against the farmer. Tim was still for a couple seconds, before he melted into Rhys, his hands going up to the younger man’s waist and grasping carefully at his sides. The soft strength in Tim’s arms as he held Rhys close was something he couldn’t never get enough of. Tim could probably break him in half if he really wanted to, but he had learned quickly that where the Rhys was concerned, Tim’s strength was reserved solely for hugging him close or picking him up and carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch. Rhys finally pulled away from Tim’s mouth, inhaling a breath with a smile as he nudged their noses together.

“You know…Jack’s not going to be here until later tonight…” Rhys purred softly, his hands falling down to rest against Tim’s chest. He could feel Tim’s warmth under the thick cotton fabric of his shirt, the way his pecs rose and fell with his breath. “Think you can fit me into your Thanksgiving schedule?”

The little, giddy laugh that came from Tim’s lips had Rhys’ heart thrumming. The farmer’s hands slipped down, cupping Rhys’ behind as he kept their bodies close together, the charming twinkle in his as Tim leaned in to kiss him again nearly making Rhys swoon.

“I think I can manage that.”


End file.
